I am Noble
by Hammer-space Handgun
Summary: "Nobility isn't a trait; it's an idea." Those words are what founded the Noble Chapter of the Good King's Legion. Each Noble is dedicated to their own cause: some for family, others for religion. Blade Knight Norment Mason is Noble to uphold what it means to be Noble. How will he fare in a world where the most vile and dishonorable of scum dare to call themselves noble?
1. Chapter 1: I am

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction purely created for non-profit entertainment purposes. I do not claim to own Zero no Tsukaima, its characters, its world, or its official storyline; nor do I claim to own Dungeons & Dragons, its characters, or its world. The only things I own are the Noble Chapter and the OCs and the organizations that I have made and presented. Please support the official releases, because they're awesome.

Chapter One: I am…

_"We are Sturdy like our walls,_  
_We will never fall._  
_We are Blades that meet our foes,_  
_We will fell them all._  
_We stand firm, for we are Steel._  
_Our wills will never bend._  
_We are Strong, for we are Masons._  
_We are Noble until the end!_"  
-A House Mason war chant for their Noble Blade Knights.

* * *

A triumphant cry echoed through the glade as the body of the dragon fell to the ground. We had just successfully baited and ambushed the red dragon that had claimed a newly established section of highway as part of its territory. However, this victory was not without cost. Five of our fifteen men fell to the beast's flames and fangs while three more are severely wounded. Our healers scramble to and fro, reforming the flesh of the wounded and gathering the bodies of the dead.

I brush off the errant embers that found their way onto the blue robes of my Noble mage-plate armor, the steel made translucent as a side-effect of a magical enchantment. The Nobles who fell by fire were the ones that believed that staying far away from the dragon was safe and the ones who were unfortunate enough to be caught in the way. I am singed in some places and sore all over; I've had numerous close calls throughout the entire battle. Had I been a foot taller… I quickly shake my head free of such thoughts as I struggle to remove my halberd from its thick, scaly neck.

"Oi, Little Mountain!" called the cheerful but exhausted voice of Tyavel. Ah Tyavel, what an absolute pain in the ass he is. He is a Noble from the elven order of Duskblades—a fellow Spellblade of our chapter, who artfully mixes magic prowess with martial might. However, he is still an elf, so he's naturally aloof, arrogant, and completely irresponsible. Although that may be the dwarf in me talking, it doesn't change the fact that it's completely true. "Caught in a pinch?"

_Oh, _wonderful_, _I inwardly groan, _all the good men who burned today, and _this _buffoon comes out unscathed. _"Is that not a bit obvious?" I spit, punctuating each word with another grunt of effort.

The elf rounds the fallen dragon while waving his ever-present wand, cleaning the filth from his robed armor and grooming his slightly over pampered brown hair. "I was talking about you, not your axe," He laughs, much to my chagrin. "Well, I guess that's what happens when you try to wield a weapon with a head that's bigger than yours!" I halt my efforts, lift my visor, and glare up at him as I wait for him to finish chortling at his own joke.

A couple of moments later, he regains his composure. Now only letting out an occasional chuckle, he replaces his open-faced helmet and checks himself in his mirror, apparently liking what he sees. I clear my throat to bring attention to my situation that's apparently not worth his attention. "A bit of assistance, please?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask," the fop draws his longsword and uses it to pry open the wound, allowing me to recover my weapon.

Giving him a grunt one part appreciation and two parts annoyance, I briskly moved away in order to retrieve my preferred arms, my dwarven axe and my Noble steel shield, that had been forcibly removed from my person in the heat of battle.

I set myself down on a small boulder and prepare one of my own cantrips to clean off my equipment when my familiar, a cat-sized dragon, jumped onto my lap with what appeared to be some sort of glimmering blue gem. _"I've located the dragon's lair, brother. Its hoard is _massive!_" _her small, scratchy voice rings in my mind.

My expression brightens as I feel her excitement wash over me. "Well done, Werabela!" I praised as I massaged the scales under her jaw affectionately. Over time, I learned that the trick to keeping a psuedodragon familiar is to treat it like a cat—they both behave in very similar fashions I've noticed (pompous attitude, likes attention, has no qualms about breaking your pottery, etc.), you just need to get used to your cat having telepathy. "I think that you've just earned us the right to indulge in some luxury once we return to our clan hold," I winked conspiratorially.

Werabela rasps out a content purr at my ministrations. _"Oh yes…" _she mentally sighed, _"Oh I hope you use those special bath salts. The ones that feels _really_ good on my spines." _Ohoho~ look at her trying to milk me for all that I can give. Isn't that absolutely adorable?

"Yes, I'll make sure to buy some when we ride back. In fact…," I lean in to whisper, as though I were sharing some dark secret, "I may just even throw in one of those wing massages you love so much." I practically had to strangle myself to contain my laughter as she starts chirping with desire.

"Whoa, that's kind of creepy." Ah, there it goes. Werabela hisses at Tyavel's typically poor interruption. Her glare never leaves him as she scales the braids of my beard, eventually reaching her destination and draping herself over my shoulders. "What? It truly is. You pamper her like a young wife!"

"Sans romance, isn't that essentially what a familiar contract is?" His only response was a raised eyebrow and a curious frown. With a sigh, I decide that it's not currently worth trying to describe something as complex as a binding ritual to him. Time to try that diplomatic technique I've been practicing: subtle subject changes. "Oh by the way, Werabela here has located the dragon's hoard. Shall we go claim its contents in the name of the Good King?" I speak as smoothly and nonchalantly as I perfectly execute my conversational evasion.

"That does sound like a good idea. I'll go spread the word!" As Tyavel jogs off, he calls over his shoulder, "And don't think you've dodged that subject; I'll be asking later!" As promised, he then spreads the word (said word being "Hoard!") while gesticulating energetically, the others quickly sharing his sentiment.

"…I wasn't that obvious, was I?"

"_No, of course not!"_ Ah, Werabela, your compassion is truly a balm to my- _"I hold no doubts that that performance would have worked on the wisest of commoners."_

…It was a good effort, 'Bela.

"Oh well, nothing to do about it now," I sigh. Finally deciding to complete my spell, I inspect my equipment for any damages. Pleased with their condition, I rise off the rock as the others decided who would go to the lair and who would watch over the wounded.

I am selected to go (not only for my strong back, but my familiar is the one who knows the way), our battlemage for nasty surprises, a scout to hedge out nasty surprises, and a healer. Just in case.

Wait, what's this? Some seemingly rare time away from my fellow Spellblade? As my familiar guides the scout, I find myself wondering if a skipping dwarf is a strange sight. I eventually decide to dismiss such thoughts in favor for a happy walk of peace and elf-less quiet.

* * *

_This is it, _the girl thought as she arose from the bed. _This is the day I prove myself as a true noble. _

She dresses herself (albeit a bit slowly) as she mentally prepares herself for the day's coming events or, more accurately, coming event.

Running a comb through her wavy pink hair, she thinks back to the past week leading up to this day. A week filled with taunts, jeers, explosions, and mind crippling failure; It was practically the same as every week until today. The only difference is that today will either make last week a benchmark noting her complete turnaround, the day where she learns her true elemental affinity and builds upon it; or it marks it as the _last_ week as a noble-.

"No!" she slams down her comb onto her vanity and leaps onto her feet, glaring at her reflection all the while. "This is the day that I summon a familiar—there is no alternative! Today I prove myself as a noble. I will not fail!" After taking several deep, calming breaths, she takes up her cloak and boldly steps into the hall.

_I _cannot_ fail._

_I am a _noble_._

* * *

We have arrived at mouth of the cave that is the dragon's hoard. The journey didn't take long, only about a thirty minute walk. On our way, we passed a steadily increasing amount of debris. Wagons, carts, embellished chariots, even a boat or two (I've decided not to question their existence). With all of the wreckage, we've concluded that this dragon had collected quite a bit of material.

Thus brings us to our current situation: standing before the mouth of the cave, wondering what could be inside.

"So..." starts our forward scout, a half-elf (the poor boy), "...any guesses to how big the hoard is?"

"Looking at the dragon's size and features," responds our middle-aged human mage, "I'd say that it had just entered adulthood. That leaves anything from fifty to sixty years of gathering," he finishes with a gleam in his eye.

"Aye. That could mean quite a bit of coinage in there," our healer, a dwarf from the desert chimes in, idly thumbing the pommel of her morningstar. "Just think of all the steel this could churn out!"

"Aye, that _does_ sound like quite a bit of gold, but that is not what we're here for now," I cut in. "Right now our duty is to make sure that this cavern is clear of threats. _After_ that," I grin, "we can spread the wealth."

"Well what in the nine hells are we waiting for then? I'll go check for traps!" he shouts as he strikes a sunrod and tosses it in, quickly chasing after it. Ah, so full of youth that boy. I hope that enthusiasm doesn't get him killed.

"There's a lot of his mother in that boy," muses the wizard.

"You know him?"

"Yes. For thirteen years now, actually. Being half elf he took a bit to mature, but like his mother he's still a child at heart, even after reaching adulthood. Adventurous, too," he chuckles with a nostalgic smile. "Even now I remember all the trouble he would get into. Chiefly the time where he slipped a drop of sovereign glue onto the professor's wig—I was the professor's attendant at the time—and the only store in the city that had universal solvent was closed because its owner and only worker had traveled to Goralston on business!

"In the end, the professor had to contact a councilman in order to authorize hiring a locksmith to open the shops door. The moment the solvent was applied, Shorald had jumped into the doorway and admitted to his crime with a smile," the man laughs as he recalls the event, "The enraged sputtering that came out of his mouth had the locksmith worried that he was suddenly possessed! As punishment, the boy would have to clean up the classroom after school until the end of his term."

"All things considered," I chime in, "That isn't all that bad."

"That particular class was alchemy. Shortly after that event, the classroom suffered from a strange _accident _involving a frightened goat and ten tanglefoot bags," he states with a smirk. "A little known fact involving that particular professor was that he quite the prankster in his youth, resulting in some creative incidents that all happened conveniently at the end of the day. Shorald never approached an alchemy workshop for years afterwards."

"You two must be quite close," our healer notes, a cleric of Heironeous judging by her necklace.

His face loses some of its cheer. "That we are," he affirms solemnly. "The passing of his mother—Corellon bless her—was what made us realize our Nobility. We were recruited shortly after." Ah, so that's it. When a death is associated with an 'Awakening' as they now call it, it rarely means a peaceful passing. With this in mind, I opt to rest this subject.

"I am Blade Knight Norment the Mithral of House Mason. Spellblade." I remove my sword arm's gauntlet and raise my hand in greeting.

Following protocol, he balances his staff and removes his right glove. "I am Mage Knight Colbert the Blaze of House Thorold. Battle mage, fire specialization," he declares as he reaches down and firmly shakes my hand. "Well met, fellow Noble."

"Well met, indeed." Our greeting is interrupted by the returning boy. He gives a wave to confirm its safety. "It appears as though it is time to move."

"Then let us move."

And so we entered the dragon's lair.

* * *

_A_ salamander?! _She summoned_ salamander_ as her familiar?!_

Today was not a good day for Louise. Her confidence was strong at the beginning of the day. She boldly marched through the halls everywhere she went. In the morning, even though she felt nauseous with anxiety, she forced down a hearty breakfast. She bravely strutted into the courtyard and observed silently as she watched the other students summoned their familiars—not at all because she was nervous, of course. She was simply gauging her competition. However, as she watched some students summon grand and sometimes magical creatures as their life companions, she became afflicted with a slight case of anxiety.

Thus brings her to her current situation: hiding behind a large-bodied student, in hopes to delay possible humiliation.

"Not quite," the endlessly irritating voice of Kirche calls out, "Miss Vallière hasn't gone yet." She punctuates her statement with a smirk directed over her should directly at Louise's hiding place.

_That damned big breasted… What am I doing? _She steps out from behind her human shield. _Why am I hiding? I'm no babbling babe incapable of caring for herself. No, I am Louise!_ She strides past Kirche giving her a passing glare, the returns her gaze forward.

_I am __Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière!_ _I will show no fear! I _will _prove to everyone here that I am no Zero and I _will_ bring honor to my family name! _Taking a deep breath, Louise steadies herself and mentally prepares her spell.

_I can do this. I _will_ succeed. I am _not_ a failure._

_I am a Vallière. I am a noble._

* * *

"This is rather straightforward, don't you think?" observes the healer.

"Yes, I do," I agree, "quite literally, in fact."

The dragon's lair was a tunnel seemingly carved straight out from the side of a mountain, interrupted occasionally by rocky outcroppings or the occasional stalagmite. We've been walking for five minutes already with still no sign of any form of offshoot, bend nor end. It is simply a huge straight line of a tunnel. Undeterred from the lack of decorum, we march on in solemn silence.

"You know, I've never known which ones were stalagmites and stalactites."

Wait, what?

Seemingly reading my thoughts, she continues, "You know the bits of rock hanging from the ceiling and sticking up from the ground? I was told a long time ago which ones were which and a few times after that, but it never really stuck," the girl continues. One couldn't tell from her barely visible face, but from her voice I realize she is actually quite young. She directs her gaze towards the ceiling and after a moment, points at a particularly large stalactite. "Stalagmite?" she asks.

"Stalac_tite_," corrects Colbert.

"Ah, see? I was never good at things like that," she nods. "I've never really been one for the learning of things like that."

"Makes me wonder how you endured the education system," I joke, knowing she'd take it in stride, friendly as she seems.

"Nah," she laughs, "I couldn't do it. Too many books that I couldn't read and all that. I mean, sure I knew the meaning of _some_ words, but big words and sentences are a completely different language to me and the teachers didn't have the patience to read to me. I wound up skipping all of that and joining a clergy," she finishes with a smile.

Well... huh.

"Well it's good to see your continued success, in spite of your shortcomings," starts Colbert with a shaky smile, "but aren't you worried that your illiteracy makes you seem a bit... er..."

"...Simple?" I offer with much trepidation. I'm not really trying to insult her intelligence. Well, actually I am, come to think of it, but I'm not trying to do so maliciously, anyway. Luckily, my fears are unfounded as she giggles and snorts at our discomfort.

"Wow, I've never seen two grown men look so awkward before!" she laughs, "No, I'm not worried about it. I know it will happen anyway, but I'm not worried. So long as I perform my duty as a Noble, then there's nothing to worry about!" Truly, this girl has an indomitable spirit. She must have endured much on her quests as a Noble with her shortcomings. I deem this an appropriate time for introductions, so I halt my advance and do so, as does Colbert. She slings her steel shield onto her back as she makes her introduction.

"I am Shield Knight Thani, no title or family name. It's a pleasure!" She amiably smiles as she removes her shield arm's gauntlet and presents it to us. As protocol, I take hers in my sword hand and bow until her knuckles gently press against my visor. Colbert has to take a knee to do the same, much to her apparent amusement.

"Just ahead is the hoarding chamber," announces Shorald from ahead of us. "If everyone is done curtseying to each other, I wanna check out the shiny stuff!" He declares as he runs into the chamber waving about his sunrod in excitement.

Shaking my head, we enter the opening.

Our eyes are instantly assailed with splendor.

* * *

The young girl stands the center of the field, devoting all of her focus to her arduous task. However, that did not stop the taunts of her classmates from reaching her ears.

"What's she thinking even attempting a spell such as this?"

"We should back up guys. The Zero's trying to summon something."

"Ten écu says her familiar explodes!"

_Stop it._

"Hah! Ten says that her familiar is an explosion!"

_Shut up!_

"Oh please! Thirty écu says that she can't even summon-"

_No! _She interrupts the taunts with a flick of a wrist and the raise of a wand as she begins her chant. A declaration to the world, the universe, and to the very Founder she worships that she will not be denied.

"My noble servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe...!"

* * *

We stand before a veritable mountain of sweet, glorious, shiny things.

Coins, gems, works of art, arms and armors that are no doubt magical, _solid gold bars_; this hoard is truly the mother-load.

"Well..." mutters an awestruck Colbert, "...This dragon certainly appears to have been quite... active."

"That he was, good Sir," I nod dumbly. "That he was."

"I think one could buy a small fortress with all of the things here..." whispers Thani.

_"I told you its hoard was massive,"_ sulks Werabela. _"Did you not believe me?"_

"Oh no, I believed you." I stroke my familiars head. "I just didn't realize how _big _'massive' was."

Shorald looks between us and the treasure. "You wanna...?"

The next instant has us sorting out the treasure. I assign Colbert to detection duty in order to hedge out magic items and potential curses, while Thani and I work on the heavy lifting to separate this hoard into categories: Magical, art, money, and equipment. Although we stop occasionally for minor debates (usually Thani insisting that a particular armament was a work of art and thus belonged in the art pile) we are making decent time. There are many gems that we could not immediately identify, but that can be taken care of when everyone is here to haul everything back to the Capital.

Or at least that _was_ the plan, until something started happening.

**_"My noble servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe...!"_**

Upon hearing this strange statement I drop the chest that I was hauling to the art section and bring my axe and shield to bear. A tense moment passes as nothing happens. What I found strange about it wasn't that it was in a strange language,.

No, what was strange was that I somehow understood it.

_"Brother, what's wrong?" _I detect a strong feeling of worry and unease from Werabela.

"Did anyone else hear that?" I inquire softly.

**_"...My divine, beautiful, wise, and powerful servant, heed my call!"_**

"I certainly heard something that time," Colbert readies his staff and steadily moves closer to us, "but what was it?"

"What did it sound like?" asks Thani nervously.

"It sounded kind of like a girl," notes Shorald while absently drawing his shortbow taut, "but what was she saying?"

"You mean you can't understand her?" Why was I the only one who could understand this voice? Was it meant for my ears only? Is this a trap set by some beast? Perhaps a trick by some demon?!

**_"I wish for you, from the bottom of my heart, to answer my guidance and appear!"_**

And then there, right in front of me, a man-sized pentagram inlaid into a disc of arcane runes sharply came into existence.

"Look out!" I cry as I jump away from the anomaly that was suddenly there.

At my warning others hop away with shouts of alarm and Shorald reflexively looses an arrow, lit aflame by the magic of his bow, directly into it. I was going to scold him for provoking a... whatever this thing is, when it simply ate his arrow whole.

_"What's going on?" _asks my fearful familiar.

"What is that thing?" I inquire to our dedicated practitioner of the arcane, only to find him staring in wide-eyed wonder.

"Amazing...!" he whispers, as though anything louder could shatter its existence. "If my eyes and mind are to be trusted..." he then approached the disk, much to our protest, and began examining it—its runes, its shape, its form, none was safe from his inquisitive gaze."I believe," he returns as giddy as a farm girl on parade day, "that this is a modified form of a _Gate_ spell!"

Of course, a Gate! What was I thinking? "What the hell is a _'Gate'_?" I decide to ask the unspoken question.

"A Gate," undeterred by my annoyance, "is a very ancient and _very_ powerful spell. It is recorded in various texts to have the power of _interdimensional travel!_ With this spell, the world, the planes—the entire cosmos could be traversed in but a moment! Only the strongest of mages can even cast this spell. Its presence here means that either one of us secretly wields godlike power or...," suddenly, he loses his cheer and his mouth goes dry as he slowly turns to face it. "One of us is being summoned by said very powerful mage..." We all stare at the Gate with varying expressions of trepidation (though mine is hidden behind my visor). It is then that I remember what the voice had said.

"A servant," I state much to the surprise of the others. "It was looking for a servant."

_"Brother?" _Werabela mentally calls from her place on my shoulder. I look at her and she meets my gaze with wide, fearful eyes.

I pick up a coin—a platinum piece minted at the Capital I note—and flick it into the Gate where it is swallowed whole, the ringing of the coin abruptly silenced as it passes through.

"...We should leave," I announce. Everyone silently agrees.

As we make our exit however, an unseen force wraps itself around my body jerking me back towards it. "Sir Norment!" Colbert is the first to realize my situation.

Reacting quickly to this turn of events, Shorald takes initiative by grabbing a nearby chain we were using to drag some loot and wraps it around my midsection. After securing it with a piton that he deftly drew from my climbing kit, he tossed the slack to Thani.

"Quickly!" he cried, "Take up the chain and set yourself!" He pulls on the nearest section of chain to no effect.

With a frantic wave of his staff and a shout, Colbert casts a Greater Dispel at the Gate. Sadly, it has no effect. "Its caster is too powerful! I cannot void it on my own!"

Thani takes up the chain and pulls with all of her might, to no avail. "That Gate is too strong!" Looking around for anything that can help, she lays eyes on a moderately thick stalagmite that's well within reach of the chain. "I'm going to anchor this end onto that stalactite!" She announces as she carries her end of the chain over to the stalagmite.

At this very moment, I didn't have the heart or the concentration to correct her.

I could tell by the invisible force pulling me that I would not be escaping today.

I'll be damned, however, if I do not try.

Securing my axe onto its place on my hip, I use my free hand to reach into my spell pouch. I cannot use an 'Enlarge' spell; that that would either burst the chain or shock my allies keeping me in place. If I use Flight, then I would lose traction with the ground. No, first I will bolster myself so I can hold my ground, then I will do what I was trained to do: attack and hope for the best.

Drawing some bull hairs from the pouch, I chant necessary arcane words ingrained into my very soul and channel magical energies through my every muscle and bone. As the bull hairs are consumed by arcane energies, I can feel my physical might rise significantly as I take hold of the chain.

Shorald and Thani continue to tug on the chains, but realize with despair that they are losing ground. Colbert tries to conjure a wall of stone behind my slowly sliding form, but the moment I make contact with it, it disintegrates. Undeterred, he continues all forms of spells to try and disrupt the Gate's attempt to kidnap me.

At this rate, I'm only about thirty seconds from getting whisked away to gods-knows-where.

"Werabela," I grind out as I turn towards the portal, "run."

_"What?!"_

"I told you to run away!"

_"No! I'm not going to leave you!"_

As I get within fifteen feet of the portal, I grab my familiar and throw her in the opposite direction. Turning back towards the portal, I unleash the angriest gout of flame I've ever had the honor of launching directly into it—sadly, still to no effect. Through the blaze, I can hear the panicked cries of my fellow Nobles.

"Sir Norment, I cannot stop the Gate!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mason! I can't hold on much longer..."

"Come on, big guy, don't give up now!"

_"Brother, please don't make me leave you!"_

"SHUT UP!" I shout over the din of chaos, my authority silencing all of their voices at once. "This isn't some kind of low grade, nine-copper romance novel," I can feel my familiar's panic crashing against me in waves. "You are going to report this, you _are_ going to get help, and you _will_ bring me back."

"But what will you do, Sir Norment?"

"I am going to go _have words_ with my so-called 'summoner'." I growl as I drop my visor over my face and draw my axe. Unleashing a battle cry, I strike out the piton keeping the chain in place.

I am immediately flung across the cosmos, roaring all the while.

Words will be had, indeed.

* * *

The three stands there dumbly as the Gate disappears, the chain falling limp to the ground. Almost immediately, Werabela screeches desperately while flapping about the cavern in a frantic manner.

"Why did this happen?" whimpered Thani on the brink of tears. "We all only just met him and now he's gone? That isn't fair."

"Yeah, this is pretty messed up," chimed in Shorald. "I didn't really know him, but I feel for him, you know?"

"Indeed, I know," Colbert solemnly nods, using his staff as a support. "I had only just met him, but I could tell he was a good man. And his poor familiar..."

That was as far as he got before said familiar practically crashed onto the head of his staff. _"Why are you talking about him as if he's dead?!" _she screeches into his mind, sending him reeling. _"Why are we all just standing here like this is a funeral?! We need to go find help so we can_ _save my brother!"_

Shocked out of his confusion, Colbert regains his focus. "Yes, of course you are right, lady familiar. Come, everyone," he rallies everyone's attention, "we must go get help so that we may save our fellow Noble! He is depending on us to find him a way home, so we must do so quickly lest something terrible happen!"

"Here, here!" Thani cries, "For our new friend!"

And with that, they run back to the dragon's corpse.

* * *

"...My divine, beautiful, wise, and powerful servant, heed my call!" she continues, raising her wand and waving it, gracefully weaving the magic to form her spell. "I wish for you, from the bottom of my heart, to answer my guidance and appear!"

_This looks quite promising, _thinks Professor Jean Colbert while observing from the sidelines (at a safe distance, of course). _Such conviction and confidence! I'm positive that she will-_

His train of thought was painfully interrupted by a blinding flash, a deafening bang, and an all obscuring cloud of smoke threatening to clog his lungs. Coughing violently, he waves his staff in front of him in a futile attempt to clear the air. He can already hear the jeers of the students as-

_Thunk!_

His thoughts start running at a mile a minute. That sound. He knew that sound. That was the sound of an arrow striking wood. It felt like it came from his staff. Upon inspection, he indeed found a smoldering arrow lodged in the head of his staff. With a quick Detect Magic spell, he found the residue of an enchantment that he was quite familiar with: Flames. He returns the staff to the position it was held at when the arrow struck and, to his surprise, he finds that its angle suggests that it would have struck his head had the staff not been in the way. _Could it be an assassin? Have I been discovered?!_ Using its trajectory to judge the point of origin, he finds that it was launched directly from the center of-

_Wait, _he pauses, seeing a glow from the center of the dust cloud. _That is-!_

"Ms. Vallière, stay behind me!" Professor Colbert jumps in front of a disoriented Louise as a gout of flame bursts forth from the same point as where the arrow originated from. Without need of a chant, the Professor summons a wall of flame before him, successfully cancelling out the angry red flames threatening to incinerate a student under his vigilant watch.

Identifying the casting of battle magic, Tabitha summons a gale of wind to blow away the smoke so that she may expose any potential threats.

And exposed it was, for the clearing of the smoke revealed an ornately dressed axe wielding midget with the grandest, deep brown beard they have ever seen flowing from under his close helmet, braided, and tucked into to his waistbelt.

At first glance, he appears to be dressed in high grade, royal blue robes with dark purple detail, but it is quickly noted that from his neck to his boots, he's armored in interlocking plates of some kind of metallic but translucent material. On his left arm he hefts a large steel shield and in his right hand he wields an axe with a large, heavy head. On his back is a large pack complete with rope, a torch, a tent and a clay jug—an adventurer perhaps?—and secured right next to it is a loaded crossbow and a halberd.

In short, this dwarf of a man is most likely quite dangerous.

"_RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!_"

And he's charging straight for Colbert.

* * *

_"__By naming a particular being or kind of being as you cast the spell, you cause the gate to open in the immediate vicinity of the desired creature and pull the subject through, willing or unwilling."_ – An excerpt from _Gate_'s spell description.

* * *

**Character Name:** Norment Mason

**Race:** Dwarf

**Alignment:** Lawful Neutral

**Class and Level: **Fighter 2/ Sorcerer 4/ Spellsword 5

**Remaining Hit Points/Max Hit Points:** 33/70 (1d10 +4d4+5d8+43)

**Base Attack Bonus/Grapple:** +9/+11

**Saves:** Fort +11, Ref +3, Will +7

**Abilities:** Str 14, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 14

**Feats:** Improved Familiar, Power Attack, Cleave, Combat Familiar, Blind Fight, Extend Spell, Empower Spell.

This character uses a 28 point buy system.

Books used for this story: Player's Handbook, Player's Handbook II, Dungeon Master's Guide, Unearthed Arcana (traits and environmental racial variants), Complete Warrior.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Greetings, and welcome to _I am Noble_, my very first fanfiction! As of recently, I've had a bit of an obsession with Zero no Tsukaima. Since I'm already obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons, my thoughts on both subjects had tendency to mix. The end result of my idle daydreaming is this story! Now then, allow me to note certain things that you may need to know:

The D&D edition I play and use in this story is 3.5e. It was the first edition that I was introduced to and it is one that I'm comfortable with. I've tried Pathfinder before and found it wasn't my cup of tea*. Normally I use quite a few supplemental books, variants, and house rules, but for the sake of simplicity, I'm restricting this story to the books mentioned on Norment's spoiler-free statblock.

The campaign setting is a custom collaboration of me and a friend of mine. He created the original world and over a span of a few millennia (in game, of course), I built on it. He plans to give me full rights to do stuff to the world, but I don't plan on claiming that this world is my creation alone; only the original characters and the organizations seen here are mine alone. Thus explains why this paragraph exists in the first place.

I may or may not alter parts of the actual story or the plot for the sake of this story or for entertainment. You have been warned.

While I will try to update frequently, I may not actually succeed. Please send me angry messages if I take too long.

All that being said, thank you for reading! If I've done something to please or offend, please let me know via review and also point out any mistakes I made. Until next time!

*: We never talk about 4e. That is a very dark place.


	2. Chapter 2: I am Angry

Chapter Two: I am Angry.

_"It's not easy being Noble."_-Blade Knight Tyavel 'the Crystal Blade'.

* * *

My feet have finally touched solid ground after a few moments of eternity and my adrenalin kicks in. The moment I touch down, I'm already making a quick check of my surroundings, but all I see is smoke. With all the fire I blasted into the portal though, I suppose that's understandable. If only I had a wind spell…

Right on cue, a gale blows through the area. Once again attempting a brief scan, I find myself in a very large, triangular castle courtyard with three tall towers at the points. All around me are what I assume to be human adolescent children in matching uniforms: white blouse, black trousers and a black cloak for boys; black short skirts instead of trousers for girls. They either seem to be recovering from the smoke or looking at me.

However, I don't have for more than a glance as I see the exact thing I was looking for: an elder wielding a wooden staff and wearing mages robes with a decently sized satchel hanging from his shoulder—doubtlessly it containing all manners of magical weapons and reagents—while standing in a defensive stance in front of the scorched earth where my spell doubtlessly struck. He is glaring at me with cool blue eyes of sharpened steel, denoting sharp reflexes and an abundance of field experience.

In short, he is probably the most powerful mage here.

So he hopes to make _me_ a mere servant? _Words_ will be had, indeed.

He is only a mere ten feet away. I would launch another Burning Hands spell at him, but the coward stands directly in front of a girl who is still coughing smoke from her lungs. That eliminates some of my most destructive spells as viable options. However, I am not deterred, as there is still something that I can do to great effect in situations like this.

"_RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!_"

I charge right at him.

I will not be bested by a lowly _slaver_.

* * *

Jean Colbert sees the little man's charge and instantly, old instincts jumps into action. Faster than any complacent school professor should be able to react, Colbert completes the necessary components to cast his Wall of Flames spell. A ring of blue fire thirty feet wide and twenty high roars into existence in a ring surrounding the stocky fury, trapping him. The sight of the sudden towering blaze snaps the students out of their confusion and immediately sends them into a panic, leaving Colbert, Kirche, Louise, Tabitha and the dwarf in the courtyard.

"What in the world did you do, you _Zero_?!" one student cries as he runs to the safety of the central tower. "Even the thing you summoned tries to kill us!"

"Who or what in the all the lands did you summon, Louise?!" Kirche breathed in shock, drawing her wand.

"Shut up! This is just a… uh…" Louise trails off, glancing at the ring of destructive magic warily. "This…This is just a small mistake. I can still fix this!" _Somehow_.

"Please, lay down your arms!" Colbert declares, barely noting Tabitha as she mounts her familiar, a wind dragon. "I'm sure we can talk this over like civilized beings!"He can hear the stranger's grunts of discomfort from within the ring.

Tabitha takes to the skies on the back of her dragon, though she quickly realizes that she is not the only one to do so as up from the ring of fire, the stranger is seen making his ascent. With a quick burst of speed, Tabitha flies her dragon just out of reach over the figure and, using her magic, blasts a strong gust of wind straight down onto him, hoping to slam him back into the firestorm. Her efforts were for naught; he merely wavers in the air as the gust buffets the ends and tassels of his vestments.

Colbert breaks concentration on maintaining his spell. _That spell will maintain itself for at about a minute longer,_ he notes. "Please," he pleads to the flying dwarf, holding his arms out in what he hopes is a placating gesture, "let there be peace between us!" The faceless man's only response is to swing his axe and shout at Tabitha and her familiar in a strange language. It matters not what his words were; his actions made their meaning clear: that half-man was threatening one of Colbert's treasured students.

That is _unacceptable._

Tabitha's only response was to sling another gust at him before flying away. While a flying faceless individual roiling in heat and practically radiating in anger would be intimidating, both she and her familiar knew that he would not be able to harm them so easily. Still, it is good to keep a healthy distance from madmen. After all, only one who is truly mad would threaten a dragon.

"Sir," Colbert's voice rings out, taking on an edge that surprises any students close enough to hear it, "if you continue his kind of behavior, then we will be force to take action appropriately! Is that what you want?!" As his faceless visor returns its unnerving gaze to the object of his apparent ire, Colbert prepares a special defensive spell. _His next action_, Colbert thinks coldly,_ will decide his fate. _Nobody_ threatens my students._

The following second was tense and passed slowly as the stranger appeared to regard Colbert. Colbert hoped to the Founder that the stranger would take if not his words than his sheer emotion and intent to heart and understand their gravity. However, it was not meant to be, for as he raised his axe, Colbert knew what his answer was. The flying knight dived straight for Colbert. His fate was sealed. "So be it!"

* * *

"Professor Colbert!" Montmorency cries from the tower as that angry, armored midget that the _Zero_ summoned prepares to bring down his axe upon her quirky professor. The moment before his axe falls, Professor Colbert slams down his staff and wraps himself in flames. Colbert dips into and through the swing, but takes small shallow cut to the shoulder in the process. Where the axe lands, the thin, wispy flames covering Colbert lashes out and strikes at the stranger, drawing from him grunts of pain. Undeterred, he continues to swing while Colbert's blazing form can be seen trying his aged body to avoid the swings.

Tearing her gaze away from the blazing melee, she latches onto Guiche's arm with a death grip. "We can't just stand here, Guiche. We have to do something!"

Guiche did not hear her._ This is real… _Guiche is lost in his own thoughts, mesmerized by the battling mages. _This is _really_ real_._ A battle between nobles... _He is abruptly brought out of his thoughts as a hand connects firmly with his face. Dazedly he looks to his arm that had lost its feeling and sees Montmorency clinging to it for dear life.

"Guiche, we _need_ to help them. Do something!" she cries, her eyes shimmering with barely restrained tears. Before, he would have had no part in this, insisting that one better trained than he go out there and subdue the barbaric mage. But now, looking into the desperate eyes of his Montmorency, looking around at the terrified faces of his peers, he knows that right here and right now, even if it's just because of his family name, the name of an accomplished Marshal of Tristain, he _is _the most qualified in this situation.

Guiche then recalls a statement from his father. "_True heroes stand firm in the face of adversity." _It truly was a simple and generic line, but its words still had meaning. Schooling his fearful expression into a slightly nervous one, he turns back to Montmorency and nods one solemn nod.

He turns to the student body and uses his most confident and demanding voice. "Has any of the staff been contacted about this event?" At the resounding silence and occasional head shake, he points at a random direction. Red hair, stands to his shoulder, freckles; he instantly recognizes the boy he points to. "Bernard, get up this tower and inform every staff member you find of this complication. Go!" Surprised by the commanding tone, the one named Bernard gives a sloppy salute and scurries through the halls shouting for any staff member he can find as Guiche is already delivering his next order. "Malicorne!" The chubby, rosy-cheeked blond straightens his back at attention. "Guard this door," he gestures to the door to the courtyard, "and keep an eye on Montmorency and the other second years for me."

"Sure thing, Guiche. But…" Malicorne starts uncertainly, as though he knows the answer is something he doesn't like, "…what are you going to do?"

Drawing his rose-wand with a dramatic flourish and striking a heroic pose, he declares, "I'm going to go help defend us from that beast of a dwarf that the Zero had summoned." As he marches out boldly from through the doorway, he can hear boys gasp in admiration and girls swoon in adoration. He hears the words 'leadership', 'bravery', and even 'heroism' on many lips but most importantly, the one thing he heard from every mouth was 'Guiche de Gremont'.

_Ah, yes, _he thinks to himself,_ everyone truly loves the heroic leader._ As the door shut behind him, Guiche sees a hemisphere of ice form near instantaneously over the axe-wielding midget, trapping him onto the ground. With a flick of his red rose wand and a drop of a petal, he summons a spear wielding Bronze Valkyrie—an animated set of bronze full plate—to follow his command: to strike down the object of terror.

_The best part,_ he smiles to himself one of his signature, self-confident smirks, _is that my Valkyries will be the ones doing all the work!_

_It truly is good to be a noble._

* * *

Louise is absolutely not having a good day.

On the contrary, one could say the opposite is indeed the case. In fact, one could even go so far as to say that today is by far the worst day of her sixteen year life. _Today was supposed to be so simple!_ _Step one: Summon an amazing familiar. Step two: Bind said amazing familiar. Step three: Rub familiar's superiority that Zerbst wench's face. Step four: Bask in attention and glory as I'm recognized as a true noble!_

She recoils in horror as the midget dives down at Professor Colbert and assaults him with his axe, tipping the blade with a small amount of blood. _Oh no… A familiar's actions are the actions of their master. If that's true, _her eyes widen in terror as the professor is caught in a violent melee, _then I just assaulted a teacher with lethal intent! _Louise sinks to her knees in despair, brought down by the gravity of her realization. _Is this what I am? Am I an angry little barbarian in the garbs of a noble? I can't be! Well, yes I yell a lot and I do wish I could hurt jerks like Zerbst on occasion… but I would never actually try to_ kill_ anyone._

She plants her face in her hands ashamedly as frustrated tears threaten to pour from her eyes. _It doesn't even matter, does it? All of that studying, hours upon hours of review and preparation, was all for nothing in the end. I'm such a sorry excuse of a sorcerer. I didn't even make it to step one. _She sobs pathetically at the irony, _Failure at Step Zero-._

_Wait a minute…_ Her head snaps up, tears halted and eyes full of hope. "Wait a minute…" she whispers to herself as a dome of ice traps her summons. "'Failed at step zero'…" She jumps to her feet, just barely registering Guiche summoning one of his Valkyries.

_That thing isn't my familiar yet!_ She lets out a short hopeful laugh as realization washes over her. _Once I have it bound I can control it. I still have a chance!_ "Everyone, wait, I have an idea!" she cries over the fields. "I can fix this! If I bind it to me as my familiar, I may be able to control it!"

"What?! Louise, have you lost your mind?!" Kirche snaps. _Does that girl even realize what's going on right now? _"This isn't about you anymore, lives are at stake!"

"Kirche is right, Louise the Zero," taunts Guiche, "You've already done enough harm, so don't try and do something outrageous just to save face. You'll only get in the way, after all." With a flick of his rose, a bronze hand-and-a-half sword materializes before him, impaled into the ground. He rests a hand on the pommel of his blade. "You should leave this to _real_ nobles."

"This is not the time to insult our peers," Colbert interjects, "we need to focus on the current situation!" As he turns to Louise, she feels her hopes rise. "Miss Vallière," her hopeful smile evaporates when she hears the tone of his voice, knowing what would come next, "I'm sorry, but I also don't think that would be a good idea."

"B-but why? You see how destructive it is! This could be my chance to-!"

"Ah yes, destructive indeed," calls Kirche as Tabitha swoops down with her dragon, allowing Kirche to climb on, "Small and destructive, just like its summoner!" Kirche laughs as she and her quiet, blue-haired friend takes to the skies.

"Shut up, you-!"

"SILENCE!" Colbert all but roars, gaining the attention of the pink haired girl. Quickly reigning in his frustration, he resumes in a comforting tone. "Normally, I would try to find some way to make that happen—believe me, I would," he begins with a grim expression, "but this isn't just some mindless beast or semi-intelligent creature. This is a human being—a _noble_ at that. Even if you did bind and control him, the political backlash could be catastrophic! He doesn't bear the crest of any house in Tristain that I know of _and_ he speaks a completely different language than we do."

Louise's eyes widen at the implications presented. If this person, a foreign noble, were kidnapped and forced to become a servant, especially by someone so close to the crown as herself, it could spark a war between nations.

At the same time, that would mean that she could never bind him without his permission, and even then…

"Do you understand our predicament now, Miss Vallière?"

"…Yes, I do. But even still…" She casts a melancholic glance to the foreigner's icy prison. A moment of silence passes between them. "Professor Colbert," she gulps, offering silent prayers to the Founder and placing her hopes on the knife's edge. Her voice shaky and her breaths shallow, she asks, "would I be able to… try again…?"

"Well, er…," Colbert begins, thinking over his words carefully. He knew what her situation was—not personally, of course, but it was easy enough to see. This summoning ritual was what she was depending on to secure her position as noble. If she were to fail today, then she would likely be expelled and have her noble status stripped. From there, she would probably be married off in order to the benefit of the family—perhaps even disowned. Thus presents his dilemma: Crush her hopes now or give her false hope in order to delay the inevitable.

"The summoning ritual is a sacred tradition. To try it again would be, well, a blasphemy to the very founding…" as he sees the hope in her expression fracture, the way that she clutches to her wand as though it may fly away from her, he can't bring himself to tell her the truth. "…Listen, all this is obviously some kind of mistake. I'm sure that we can work out something with the headmaster. Just be patient," he smiles, drawing a weak hopeful smile from her in return. _I'm so sorry, Miss Vallière_, _I've only set you up for a harder fall. Please forgive me._

His musing is interrupted by a muffled thud coming from the ice dome. "Get ready everyone; he's trying to break out! Remember, we must not kill him!" _Had that been the case, _he finds himself thinking, _this fight would have been over when it started._

Another thud and a cracking sound. Louise readies her wand. She knew that Professor Colbert had only been trying to cheer her up. This will likely be her only chance to prove herself. _First, I'll cast a translation. Then, I'll mediate peace. After that and after a bit of effort, I need to convince him to convince his people to let him become my familiar. He would be quite a strong and noble familiar, indeed. _She grins at the thought of what having a familiar like him could possibly mean about her.

A section of the ice shatters outward as a spiked gauntlet smashes through it. Before any broken shards of ice touch the floor, she works on recalling the structure of a translation spell.

* * *

As I am trapped inside this dome of ice, I find myself thinking one thing:

That man is indeed _dangerous_.

Well, that and that everything here looks pretty fancy for a slaving operation. I hold no doubts that it is—kidnapping with the hopes to turn you into a servant is just a soft way of declaring your intentions, after all. In fact, it is these so called 'high-class' trafficking operations that one has to actually look out for.

And another thing: what were those kids doing here? Were they slaves? No, they wouldn't be that nicely dressed nor pampered. I couldn't help but notice an abundance of strange and exotic beasts. Perhaps they were in charge of taming them? Is this training for when they move onto people?! Is this a school for _slaving?!_ Oh, what a dark, terrible organization, indeed!

I offhandedly make a note to memorize a crest and notable locations of this area once I escape so that I can report it once I return. For now, I'm fighting a quite thrilling battle of magic and might.

I've never actually found myself in a true one on one confrontation with a battle mage of this caliber before—that's the only thing he could possibly be with that kind of mastery over flame. No doubt that he's even holding back. After all, what good is a live, noble, powerful slave if they're dead? Well, that's the difference between us that will be his downfall; he will try to hold back while I won't. The only thing keeping me from blasting him to the next life are the children nearby. Regardless of their moral inhibitions (or lack thereof), I will not risk the death of a child.

It truly is not easy being Noble.

Even more difficult when one of said children rides something that is vaguely draconic in form. Some kind of blue dragon offshoot or the stranger who can tame it is not something I wished to fight right now. While that cool winter's breeze was indeed refreshing, I couldn't help but think that cooling me off was the caster's intention.

Judging by the words my apparent summoner was speaking, we don't share any known languages. This was made doubly obvious when I had tried to yell at the dragon's rider. In the end, I wound up forcefully pantomiming my meaning to them. Luckily, both the dragon and its rider got the message I was trying to convey; "Get out of the way before you get hurt."

After putting my axe back onto its rung, I do a quick check in my flask pouch and take inventory: four healing potions, three lights and one moderate; and an invisibility potion lasting one minute. Not much, but it's something. I remove my helmet and set it aside. It is of little value; I can always just buy another at the hold's smithy when I return. I take out a moderate healing potion and a light healing potion, and drink them both. As I do so, the sensation of a cool, soothing balm crawls over the burned parts of my body, quelling their aches, sealing the skin, and removing any blisters that no doubt began forming. As the second potion takes effect, shakes that I didn't even know were shaking subsides, leaving me feeling much better than I had a moment ago. I toss the now empty flasks away and move the invisibility potion to the front of the pouch so I know where it is.

I remove my shield and hold it in front of me within this ice-blue dome, taking in the features of my faithful one-winged steel, its carry strap long burned away in battle. In a fight against mages who can wound with but a touch, a shield is more of a hindrance than an asset; especially when the one wielding it is a mage himself. Reluctantly, I set it down onto the scorched grass. "You've served me well." I caress the shield with my steel-tipped fingers.

There is only one course of action I can take now. I brandish my halberd and channel arcane power through it while chanting the necessary arcane words and holding in my mind the effect I desire and empowering it even further. After but a moment, the head of my halberd has magical lightning arcing between the pike, the axe, and the haft. Carrying it in my left hand, I approach the wall of the icy prison that hopes to contain me that is to the left of my enemy. Sadly for its caster, I know of this spell. The ice is quite fragile and a few good hits can knock a hole big enough for a man to stride through.

The implications of the existence of the wall do not escape me. I have heard of powerful mages able to cast spells with neither a movement nor sound, but being outside of his apparent elemental comfort zone, I am forced to assume that he has reinforcements. If he has reinforcements, then there is truly no hope for a head on fight. Instead, I will need to change my tactic.

I am already low on spells because of the dragon hunt earlier today. Just now, I've used all of my most powerful arcane energy on the charge in my halberd, leaving me with just a few cantrips. With my invisibility potion and still active fly spell, I should be able to make an escape once I take down that mage. If he summoned me, he can most likely track me down, so he absolutely needs to be taken down.

"I am Sturdy like our walls; I will never fall." I raise my spiked right arm and strike at the wall causing a loud thud—no doubt they heard that. "I am the Blade that meets my foes; I will fell them all." I rear back and bring my fist forward again and with a loud slam, the ice begins to fracture. "I stand firm, for I am Steel. My Will shall never bend." I rear my arm back one last time.

"I am strong, for I am a Mason. I am Noble until the end!" Upon finishing my chant, I let loose my fist and with a loud crash, the ice breaks.

The moment I broke free from the frost dome, the figure of that slaver wreathed in flames unleashes a blast directly at me. Sadly, my reflexes are not as sharp as I would like them to be and I take the full brunt of the flames.

The flames dissipate around me, only to be replaced by jagged shards of ice the size of my fist. They cut through the suddenly frigid air and rain down upon me. I can feel the cold freeze over bits of my skin as the hail pummels me from above. I look around for a section of the dome I could use as cover, only to find that the gout of flames had melted the ice.

Then, in the next instant without seemingly any delay, blazing hot flames erupt all around me. The smell of burning flesh billows out from my armor and I can feel that the parts of my now exposed face that haven't completely frozen over are being well cooked. It seems almost as though they are trying to force my body into shock with this abuse, "But you underestimate a dwarf's inner strength!" I declare.

Reaching into pouch, I draw the invisibility potion I set aside and flick off the cork. I had wanted to save this for the escape, but with so many unknown assailants, I would not survive in the open. After I slam down my potion, I drop the empty and visible flask while hopping to the right. Just in time too, it seems, as an armored figure seemingly glides across the ground, charging straight at where I was and thrusts her spear forward, impaling the steel flask. She doesn't even seem to notice the hail shattering on her armor as she continues trying to find me.

It is then that I notice that with the design of the armor, the woman's waist would be smaller than her head; an anatomical impossibility. After watching its movements, I notice that she doesn't move as an average person would move and as it looks towards my direction, I notice that the helmet of her armor has _eyes._

They sent an animated set of full plate at me.

And I had _just_ put down my shield.

A ray of fire streaks to the left of where I just was. Ah, so this person predicted that I would move, but he can't see where I moved to. Good, so he isn't currently tracking me. It would be troublesome if after using this potion he-.

As the ice storm disappears, fire once again blooms around me. The searing heat is becoming almost unbearable; I had better finish this soon. As the flames clears, I quickly fly up forty feet, out of the range of any more fireballs detonated at ground level. As I climb, I notice that dragon circling around roughly one hundred feet away and that it has taken on another passenger; a red haired figure. It's also then that I notice that the original rider's hair wasn't a trick of the light. Her hair is _truly_ a cool blue. Red and blue… It is then that I think back to the combo I was struck with just a moment ago. Could it be…?

I shake my head. That would be too easy. At the same time, I shouldn't simply write them off as harmless.

Enough of these idle thoughts! I must strike down my target and then make my escape. Looking down upon him reveals that he's still covered with his fire shield. There's no way I'm going to hit him to good effect without getting hurt in the process. And so, I drink my remaining two healing potions, feeling my ailments wash away shortly afterwards, and quickly stick them back into my pouch. As I feel confident enough in my well-being, I take up my halberd and prepare for my victory dive.

* * *

Kirche the Ardent's preconceived notions are in the process of being rewritten. As the glow of a fireball lights the gold tip of her wand, she struggles to piece together the new influx of information that her eyes insists that they received. _This person that Vallière summoned is a mage! I had expected an explosion and maybe a cactus or something else fitting her personality. How could this be? Or, more importantly, _she glances at her pink haired rival, _what could this mean? _

_They say that a familiar is a reflection of their summoner. Even if this midget isn't yet her familiar, this is a person capable of their own thoughts and feelings. Even if their controlled, it doesn't change the fact that she's controlling a short and angry brute. _She lets out a snort of amusement at how fitting that actually might be. _However, this person is a mage—a skilled mage, at that! Does that mean that she…?_

Kirche shakes her head, her crimson hair billowing in the wind behind her. _Preposterous. To have the capabilities of a war mage is _way_ too farfetched for _Louise the Zero._ On that note though…_

"Tabitha," Tabitha turns her head slightly to regard Kirche, "Professor Colbert summoned a pretty large ring of flames earlier. If you look at the grass around the flames, then you'll see that not a single blade has been burned; yet judging from that dwarf's reaction, it was indeed hot on the inside. Also, he didn't even need to chant for his flame spells."

"Battle magic," Tabitha agrees.

_Damn, _curses Colbert internally,_ a potion that renders one invisible?! That can't be possible! That person is indeed full of surprises… _Colbert was indeed worried. While he had plenty of destructive spells and methods for hedging out enemies that were hiding in the dark or around corners, he had no real way of finding a truly _invisible_ enemy; especially one that could concentrate on flying in the middle of a battle as he had previously demonstrated. _Perhaps if I set fire to the grass? No, that would hinder Miss Tabitha's and Miss Zerbst's visibility. If I heat the area, then quickly sweep it with a bit of moisture, his armor may produce steam-. _Colbert's thoughts halt as his eyes dart to a spot in the sky where he could have sworn he had seen a flash of steel.

At that moment, the sound of cloth flapping in the wind reaches his ears. It seems to come from the very direction that the stranger had disappeared. "There!" he calls as he unleashes a gout of flame at the direction he saw the glint. Just as Colbert expected, the flames parted as they washed over an unseen but surely furious figure.

It wouldn't be enough to stop him. Despite Colbert's attempt to dodge blindly, he was still struck. It was a simple cut—just barely enough to pierce his robes and cut at his ribs—but it was all that was necessary for the arcane lightning of the now visible stranger's halberd to send him into a crippling fit of spasms and with a strangled cry, Colbert collapses onto the grass. "I shouldn't have held back on that fool…!" He grunts as he tries to move his body, only to be met by a few twitches of his limbs. As blackness creeps onto the edges of his vision, he can see the helmetless face of his enemy contorted in pain as some of his skin starts to burn off in patches. _Ah, but that strike was not without cost, warrior._ Colbert smirks with grim satisfaction as his consciousness fade. _I must have grown complacent, but at least I had done my duty. My students should… be able to…take it…from…here…_

* * *

"Professor Colbert!" The moment the professor was struck, Louise's summon reappeared, shouting and roaring what were no doubt all sorts of foreign obscenities. Her target revealed, she quickly goes over the arcane structures of her intended spell one more time as she readies her wand.

Kirche appears to have different plans. She was about to unleash her fire onto the stranger when Tabitha stopped her. "Stop," she said pointing her staff at the stranger, or rather the unconscious teacher at his feet.

"Damn it. Come on, Tabitha, we need to get closer!" With a nod and a command, her dragon charges straight at the helmet-less midget, closing the distance easily. The moment she gets within range, Kirche fires a blazing ray of fire directly at the dwarf, only for him to step out of its path at the last moment.

He wouldn't have such luck with the dragon it seems, as the moment it landed, it had already struck hard with its claw. The halberd flies out of his hands as he's spun around by the force of the strike, but he demonstrates exceptional stability by managing to stay upright. While his armor had managed to survive the strike with a couple of shallow cuts, he still managed to take a rather deep gash across the neck and disappearing into the collar of his plate where a claw managed to slip in. He clutches at his wound with his left hand as his face contorts into shock and pain, then disbelief. He looks to the fallen figure of Professor Colbert, then to the dragon, then finally to all the students that had fought him, muttering all the while.

Guiche's Bronze Valkyrie glides casually over to where the dwarf stands. "Well?" Guiche calls from a safe distance, "You see that now that you cannot possibly win against us. Will you now listen to reason and surrender?" _Of course,_ thinks Guiche,_ there _will_ be a hefty punishment waiting for what you've done to the professor if you do._

He doesn't respond as he glares at Guiche. Instead, his slightly face becomes set in a resigned expression of grim determination. He makes a short hop away as he grabs the crossbow on his back.

* * *

The blood flowing out of my wound is not life threatening, luckily. I should still be able to keep acting for a while, but my movements will have to be sluggish and restrained if I don't want to rip my neck open and bleed all over the place.

Once I had put down the elder, I had expected a moment of hesitation or some kind of panic, but I guess this is what happens when one expects things to go their way. The way those humans riding the draconic thing had suddenly become aggressive almost makes me think that they liked this person.

Oh well. At least I managed to take that criminal with me.

I clutch at the wound stretching across the side of my neck. It hasn't cut anything important, but it has come dangerously close. I couldn't believe it; those children actually got me. Sure, it took an overgrown lizard to do it, but they actually got me. After fighting that dragon and this ordeal, there's nothing more my body wants to do than to just roll over and pass out, but one does not call himself a Mason and submit to the whims of his mortal shell so easily.

I cast my gaze around at my surroundings. First to the old man I had just struck down. "You may be an immoral bastard," I rasp out, my voice reduced to a low groan, "but you were a strong bastard. You've fought a good fight."

My eyes sweep over the gathered adolescence that dared to stand between me and justice. As I look upon them, I notice something that would have been important before this all started: I notice that almost all of them has a wand, the exceptions being the girl on the dragon wielding a staff and another wielding a sword off to the sidelines. That must mean that they are probably a militia in training and that the old man was also their warden.

The animated armor set glides just over the scorched grass and stops before me and the blond boy with the needlessly frilly blouse starts saying something. I'm not quite sure what he's saying, but judging by his tone and form, he's probably gloating.

From a comfortably safe distance, no less.

_Oh, yes, _indeed_; you do have quite formidable associates. I pity the poor man that makes _you_ angry, why you might just get one of your friends to duel them._ Seeing his stance overflowing with overconfidence makes me want to teach this kid a lesson.

I'm not going to kill him, of course. I'm just going to teach him that he should never let his guard down; a small bit of martial discipline, if you will.

Knowing that this action will likely be my last, I offer quick prayer to the All Father and take a deep breath, then take a few staggering steps back as fast as my weakened body allows me. My limbs feel infinitely heavier as I draw my crossbow.

Suddenly I hear a voice that is strangely familiar to me. I can't seem to place where exactly I've heard it before, though. The moment I hear it, I feel foreign magic wash over me. Despite my hardest attempts to block out the magic from invading my mind, it simply wiggles in and… seemingly does nothing? I'm still fully aware of myself, I still want to shoot that blond kid, and I still don't really see anything different—well now that I notice it, everyone seems to have an expression of fright on their face where just a moment before it was just anger and determination.

"What the-?"

* * *

Louise almost could not believe it.

When she cast her spell, a sliver of doubt wriggled its way into her mind. After all, despite how sure she was that this spell would succeed, every other spell she casts ends the same way and there was no telling whether or not this was an exception. However, her heart soared when she actually understood the next words that came out of his mouth:

"What the-?"

Said soaring heart was promptly smashed upon the smoldering ground when he exploded. His smoking form flew across the ground, landing face up directly at her feet.

"Professor Colbert!" The academy staff has finally arrived onto the scene, bursting through the tower doors, ready for battle. Upon finding the fighting over, a few water mages immediately make their way to Colbert and set to work on mending his body.

"By the Founder, his heart is struggling!" cries a nurse, sparking frightened murmurs amongst the students.

"Stabilize him and get him to the infirmary immediately!"

Meanwhile, dismounting the dragon, Tabitha could not help but review the brief but heated encounter with him. _One minute, thirty seconds, _she approximates. _Eliminate about thirty seconds for his time in the dome. Fifteen seconds kept under a near-constant multi-elemental barrage. Apply damage from retributive shield._

"Well," Kirche gracefully slides off of the dragon, "that was indeed exciting, but for once not the good kind." She notes Tabitha's thoughtful gaze as the blue-haired girl walks over to the point where he was summoned and follows her. Tabitha kneels down and plucks something from the scorched earth and charred remains of what was once grass. Leaning in to get a better look, Kirche sees a slightly warped silvery coin with a foreign script and crest depicting a shield with a single wing behind a sword.

"A silver coin?"

A shake of a head is her answer. "Platinum," is her response, causing Kirche's eyes to widen.

"What nation is that?" queries Kirche. To her surprise, her knowledgeable friend only replies with another shake of her head.

After staring thoughtfully at the coin for a few moments, she slips it into her pocket and rises. "I'm going," she declares as she starts making her way to the library leaving a confused Kirche and dragon behind her. _More information is required,_ she concludes as she passes widely by the remaining staff members while they cautiously approach the fallen warrior.

"Miss Vallière, please step away from the half-man! He is still potentially dangerous!" She had heard them, but the words did not register.

The world seemed to still for Louise as she gazed down upon the smoking form of the one she had called. Blood oozes from the wound that Tabitha's accursed dragon imparted onto him. His partially charred face is blank, staring with unseeing eyes at the sky above. So detached from the world she was that when the tower doors had suddenly burst open, she did not even notice.

She simply stood there, staring blankly down into the dying face of that who she had tried to save. She didn't resist when she was pulled away, nor did she complain when she was escorted to her room.

She didn't deny her peers in passing as they called her an absolute failure and a danger to those around her.

* * *

"…and Mister Colbert?" asks Headmaster Osmond from his chair, dressed in dark robes and stroking his long white beard with one hand while his other idly pets his mouse familiar, Motsognir. His equally old, gnarled wooden staff rests against the table beside him as he focuses on his secretary: an attractive, young, green haired woman with golden eyes who goes by the name of Longueville.

Miss Longueville was a woman of undistinguished background who had recently been hired into the academy. Of course, Old Osmond knew that her presented background was likely falsified—one doesn't become old by not being wise, after all—but he had hired her as her secretary anyway. The ever tragic story of a noble who lost their status or a bastard child of a noble was not something that he was unfamiliar with, so after a bit of surveillance and investigation to ensure that she was not here for shady purposes, Osmond had hired her full time as his secretary for her skill and speed with paper and ink, and absolutely no other reason at all.

It definitely didn't involve the decided uniform for young female secretaries (and young female secretaries _only)_ being a distressingly short minidress, either.

Casting wary glances at the mouse to ensure that it is still on the table, Longueville adjusts her wireframe spectacles. "It was difficult, but eventually Colbert was stabilized and is recovering," she continues, respectfully making eye contact. "It appears as though he was struck by a powerful lightning spell. Because it was delivered through the dwarf's polearm which was proven to be unenchanted, they have determined with certainty that he is a noble."

_That certainly complicates things._ "And what of him?"

"He has been treated minimally and stripped of his possessions. He is currently in a cell in the dungeons as a precaution."

_That certainly won't do; not for a noble._ Osmond turns towards one of his attendants. "Have him taken out of his cell and moved to one of the guest rooms—since he can fly, I would prefer one close to the ground floor. Remove any sharp objects or anything that can be made dangerous from the room. Transmute the glass to stone then reinforce it. Chain his hands to the bedposts and his legs as well. I want there to be enough slack for him to reach his hand to the nightstand, but not a bit further. I want at least two triangle class mages to guard his door at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Headmaster," replies the man as he rushes off to perform his task.

That order of business completed, he returns his attention to Longueville, raising his hand from his familiar to his chin, gaining a thoughtful expression. "What did he have in his possession?"

"On his person," she starts, skimming through the report, "there were three magical items in his possession: a leather pouch and the two gloves that he wore under his gauntlets. The pouch contained various edible substances like jerky, dried fruits, and nuts, so it is suspected that it was enchanted to preserve the freshness of what is placed inside. It is currently unknown what the gloves do, though since his polearm was proven to be unsuitable as a focus, it is likely that the gloves serve as a focus instead.

"In his backpack, there were the following: a chainmail shirt, a bedroll, a folded up tent set, some form of harness, a near empty medical kit, a torch, two gold tipped iron rods, roughly fifty feet of rope, twenty pounds of firewood, and a small cask.

"Hidden inside the tent was a satchel containing exactly seven hundred and forty-three gold coins, four hundred and five silver coins, and fifty copper coins; likely currency to a foreign nation since nobody was able to recognize the crest or read the writing. A translation spell revealed the following: Gold coins say 'Honor, Duty, Nobility,' silver coins say 'A Nation's power lies in its People.' and copper coins say 'Long Live the Liarsbane.'

Flipping a page, she continues, "On his belt were two empty pouches and in his armor was hidden a pouch of ten gold coins. Littered throughout the field were his helmet, his shield, and four steel flasks. Words were etched into each one in another language. Three flasks translated into 'heal wounds, simple,' 'heal wounds, moderate,' and 'invisibility.'"

The final potion causes Osmond to raise a skeptical eyebrow, but he holds his tongue, knowing the importance of open-mindedness. He had seen much stranger things, after all. Releasing a thoughtful hum, he muses aloud, "Judging by his equipment, I would like to say that he is an explorer or adventurer, but such heavy arms and armor as well as such a small body says otherwise. Perhaps he is a treasure hunter?"

"I believe it would explain the coins and possibly the flasks. Perhaps he had just been returning to wherever he came from when he somehow wandered into this school…?" Longueville trails off uncertainly, questioning the logic of one simply tripping into a high-walled academy complex while remaining undetected.

"Yes that does sound very unlikely," responds Osmond, picking up on her uncertainty. "Perhaps he truly was summoned by…er, who supposedly summoned him again?"

"Lady Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, sir."

"Really?" Osmond exclaims, his aged jaw reaching for the desk, "The same Louise Françoise who shows only an affinity towards naught but destruction?" at the affirmative nod causes him to lean back into his seat and rub his temples as if to stave off a migraine. "That girl truly is full of surprises…"

"Excuse me sir," intrudes one of the veteran professors, a middle aged, grey-brown haired man who goes by the name Chateau, "I do not mean to seem presumptuous," he begins, nervously tugging at the collar of his blue uniform, "but do you actually believe that Miss Vallière, who has to this day failed to successfully perform a spell without some kind of destructive backlash actually performed a successful summoning spell?" This query brought murmurs of agreement from the other teachers that had experienced firsthand her failures.

With a sigh, Osmond raises his hand palm facing outward, not far—just barely level with his face—but still earning him the desired affect: total silence.

"Professor Chateau," he begins, causing the man in question to gulp nervously, "whether I believe it or whether I admit that it is possible are two completely different things. All that should matter right now is that the possibility exists that she had summoned this person here. Unless anyone here has a better explanation for an armored dwarf suddenly being conjured into existence through an _explosion,"_ this emphasis causes those professors to begrudgingly nod in understanding, "then this is what stands as our most likely scenario. Thus," Osmond leans forward and resumes his usual position at his desk, "we must prepare."

"Now then," Osmond claps, startling everyone out of their somber mood, "Please resume your duties and return to your students if you have any. In the meantime, I will get to work on organizing this situation. I will call for you if I am in need of your skills, but unless I do, your classes will resume as normal. Please refrain from speaking of this situation in public areas, as it may start the spread of unwanted or possibly untrue rumors. That is all and you are dismissed."

Once all of the professors had exited the room to go about their business, Longueville declares that she will resume her duties as well.

"Ah, yes go on then. Oh how I admire your diligence and endurance involving the tedious intricacies of paperwork," he sighs as his familiar, which had gone mysteriously missing when Longueville had started to list off the little warrior's possessions, climbs up his shoulder and starts squeaking softly in his ear. "Oho, a deep purple, you say? Not black, but still..." he quietly responds, earning a twitch from Longueville. He then gasps as he stage whispers, "What? Lacey, too?!" this time earning a legal dictionary to the face courtesy of the now red-faced secretary.

Oh yes, her paperwork—absolutely nothing else.

* * *

_"…a spellsword can channel any spell he can cast into his melee weapon." – _An excerpt from the _Channel Spell_ special ability.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Hello everyone! I would like to thank you for the reviews you left and the messages you sent. Your encouragement and support is much appreciated and I hope that I can continue to earn them from you.

Now, I am painfully aware that it has been quite a while since I had last updated this story, and for that I apologize. To be honest, I don't really have an excuse for the time spent _not_ writing or uploading.

Regarding, that fight scene had me stumped for a while. In the end, I decided to make a mock-up battle. My friend, Helinon, had assisted me by making the dice rolls and doing certain D&D researching, effectively speeding up the time that I was able to write it and ensuring some level of accuracy. The scene itself probably isn't amazing, but hopefully it wasn't hard to read. Oh and I also wrote a few things in there as a joke to myself. I may have missed a few, though, so let me know if you find any of the lame ones.

Thus concludes this issue's notes. If I've impressed, leave a review! If I've insulted, tell me why! If there's some other thing I did that caused a reaction that I haven't listed, I'd really like to know what reaction that was, because now I'm curious.

Thanks for reading and until next time!


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